


Ruin

by mylifemyheart



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 10:31:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15772320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifemyheart/pseuds/mylifemyheart
Summary: Slight AU based on 5x09 (When Liz's cabin was invaded). What if instead of trying to handle it on her own, Liz decided to call Red for help?





	1. Grace

**A/N:** **I've been wanting to write stories that are just slightly AU from certain episodes of TBL - which really just means that I live for Liz-whump and Red-saves-the-day Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Worry.**

**This particular fic will be based on 5x09, and as for future stories... well, we'll see how this one goes first!**

* * *

"What the hell is going on here?"

Elizabeth wasn't here for this.

She hadn't upended her whole life - or what was left of it, at least - and leave behind the few people she cared about - her own  _daughter_ , for god's sake - for this.

In fact, it was damn near close to what she had wanted to get away from.

_People._

Those few people she cared about? After Tom's death, she couldn't stand being around them. She had understood that they were concerned for her, she did. And deep down, beneath all the anger and grief, she had truly appreciated it. But their worried gazes had burned her skin. Their words of sympathy had struck her chest. And that pain... That suffocation... She hadn't been able to handle it.

She hadn't been able to handle being Special Agent Elizabeth Keen.

She hadn't been able to handle being Tom's widow and Agnes' mother.

She hadn't been able to handle being Liz or Lizzie or Elizabeth.

She just... couldn't.

So, she had become Grace - quiet yet polite, mysterious yet normal, nothing-special Grace.

But today was not Grace's day.

First, her power went out.

Then a barely conscious, freezing, seriously injured man appeared practically on her doorstep.

And now... Well, now, four unfamiliar men decided it was perfectly fine to make themselves at home. In  _her_ home.

And she didn't trust any of them.


	2. Fighter

"You said your plane went down?"

"Uh, no, not my plane. Charter... Hit weather... Bam, bam, bam... Lost an engine."

_Sure you did._

"And you went down where?"

"A mile back, maybe two."

_I would have heard._

"I didn't hear anything."

"It must have been 6, uh, 10 miles."

_Walk 10 miles in this weather?_

"And you were all able to just walk away?"

"Well, we got lucky. The pilot-"

"Is he the guy in the other room?"

"Yeah, no. Pilot didn't, uh, didn't make it. We had to leave him. Mike, the guy in your bedroom... Cut up pretty bad... Bleeding... Didn't want to wait for help... Started walking. Dumb son of a bitch."

_No, you're the dumb son of a bitch._

* * *

Billy - the name of the man Liz assumed was the leader of his group. He wasn't the worst liar, but he certainly wasn't the best. She would know; she spent years married to a liar, after all.

No, Liz didn't believe a word that he or his goons said. She didn't know who exactly they were or why exactly they were here, but she was going to find out.

Currently, though, she was suturing the wound on his upper arm.

Patience was never her virtue, but she couldn't exactly confront them right now. Not like this. Not when she was outnumbered, with comparably little strength, a single gun for a weapon, and no real plan.

But she'll get to it - a plan, that is.

_Patience._

_"_ So, what's your story, anyway? Up here, all alone."

"You know the story - a girl in a cabin with a gun and a dog," she replied, keeping her hands and eyes focused on the task.

"I don't think I've heard that one," he said, absently chewing on a mouthful of ice.

_A habit?_

"Trust me, it's not that interesting."

_If only that were true._

* * *

_"_ Hey, I got a question for you. These guys, their story - anything seem off to you?" Liz asked Colin, keeping her voice hushed.

"What do you mean  _off_?"

"They walked 10 miles in this weather? From a crash I never heard." Contrary to her deadpan expression, her incredulity was loud and clear.

"Don't be silly."

She scoffed. "Not a broken bone on one of them. I think I should go with you."

"You're being paranoid. Come on. Everything will be fine," he assured her, an amused smile on his kind face. "We'll be back before you know it."

_Somehow, I get the feeling that won't be the case._

* * *

"It's all right. You're gonna be okay. We're gonna get you some help. Your friends are in the other room," Liz said to Mike, the man lying in her bed.

Mike tapped his fingers, gaining her attention. "Not friends," he managed to wheeze out.

_Why am I not surprised?_

"Then who the hell are they?"

"Th-They'll kill you, too. Ratted Carlucci family."

"The Carlucci crime family? What are you doing up here?"

"Witness protection."

_Damn._

"WitSec dumped you up here, but your old friends found you just the same."

"Please, th-they'll kill me."

At that fear-filled statement, she slid her gun beneath the blanket, keeping their eyes locked and making sure he understood what that meant.

"How are we gonna get you out of here?" she said, more to herself than to him.

"They'll kill you, too."

_Not if I kill them first._

Just then, Billy entered the room. "Everything okay in here?" he asked, casually leaning against the doorway.

_He's chewing ice again._

"Yeah. He's good. He'll push through a few more hours. He's a fighter."

_And so am I._

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed :) I appreciate reviews!**


	3. Lizzie

"That crash - I never thought our little hunting adventure would turn out like this."

_You slipped, Billy._

"Hunting? I thought you said you were fishing?"

"What?"

Before he could think of a reply, Liz dropped her glass, feigning surprise as she watched it shatter on the ground. "Oh, damn it. Sorry."

"Here, let me help," he offered, probably thankful for the unexpected diversion.

"No, no. You stay put. There's glass everywhere," she said, collecting the splintered pieces. Then she directed her next words to Ellis, AKA Goon 1. "You done with that?"

"I guess," he muttered, handing the spoon and jar of peanut butter to her.

The beginnings of her plan were already set in motion.

* * *

A gust of wind blew into the cabin as the front door swung open.

_Goon 2._

"You were right about that weather. I was not dressed warm enough."

"Where's Colin?" Liz asked, masking her worry.

"We got about a mile down the trail, bumped into another ranger on a three-wheeler. He only had room for one, so they headed back to town, said they'd call for help. Told me to get back here before I froze."

He might as well have just said " _Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit,_ " because that was all Liz really heard.

"Have you seen my dog?"

"What? No."

"Kate? Kate?" she called out, pretending to search for the dog she knew she wouldn't find - not alive, at least. Heading into her bedroom, she retrieved her gun.

"You sure she's not in the barn? Maybe she got spooked with the storm and all."

"Think I'll brave the weather. She's probably outside." Discreetly, she turned on the garbage disposal, and as she knew it would, it tripped the generator, effectively cutting off the power. "Damn generator. It happens all the time."

"So what do we do?" Billy asked.

"You do nothing. I'm gonna go fix it."

"It's bad out. You'll need help."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You know the one thing I've learned all my time out here alone?"

"What's that?"

"Men just get in my way. I'll be right back."

Ignoring the searing gazes of the men behind her, she headed straight to the out building without a backwards glance. Inside, she could see that the radio microphone's cord had been severed. She wasn't disheartened by the sight, though, as the wonky radio was not what she came for. Using her flashlight to help find her way, she barely managed to suppress a gasp when she spotted both her dog and Colin on the ground, their throats slit. Dead.

_Keep calm._

Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, she finally reached the boxes of junk. Except, not all of it was junk. Digging through the tools and cables, she pulled out the one object she never intended to use.

A satellite phone.

A phone that Red, in exchange for continuing his work with the task force, in exchange for agreeing -  _promising_  - to back off, to stay away, to  _let go_ of her, had insisted she take with her, because  _wherever he was, whatever he was doing, if she was in need, he would be there._

_Well, I think this counts as one of those times._

Quickly, without thinking any further, she dialed the only number saved in the phone and brought the device to her ear. It rung only once before the line connected.

"Lizzie."

* * *

**A/N: Finally! Red!**


	4. Red

_Lizzie._

It had been months since he last saw her, heard from her. He hadn't liked it - the no contact, the blatant ignorance regarding her well-being. No, he had hated it. Dreaded it. But he had known it was necessary. For her. She had needed her space. She had needed time to... deal, to process and grieve all that had happened, every tragedy - big and small - that had built and festered over the years, the experiences that had hardened her, drained her.

Now, finally, she had initiated contact.

And that frightened him, had the blood draining from his face and his heart pounding in his chest.

Because she wouldn't have called him like this -  _from that phone_ \- if she weren't in some kind of trouble.

"What's wrong?" he barely managed to say, those two words replacing the many he wished to speak. She didn't reply - not right away - but he knew she was still there. "Elizabeth, what's wrong?" he demanded in that rough, gritty tone of his.

 _"Red..._ " A shaky exhale. " _I need your help."_

"Are you hurt?"

He dreaded the answer, but he had to know.

" _No... No."_ And then her voice hardened.  _Good._ If she was in trouble - which he now had no doubt was exactly the case - he needed her to maintain a cool head. " _But I don't know for how long._ "

"Explain."

" _I don't have much time._ " He could imagine her shaking her head impatiently. " _My cabin - I'm sure you have my location by now_ -" He did indeed, but he didn't bother confirming. "- _There's a man in my bed right now._ " That particular statement caught him off guard, but he tried not to react too obviously. Dembe was watching him closely, after all. " _He's criticially injured. His name is Mike, and he's in WitSec. Ratted out the Carlucci family - but they found him. Four men. They're all inside right now. I'm in the out house, but like I said, I don't have much-_ " She abruptly stopped talking, but the line was still connected. He could hear her talking to someone. A man. But the man's voice wasn't as clear... Muffled.  _A walkie-talkie_? " _Red._ "  _She's back._ " _I have to go._ "

_No, no, no._

"Elizabeth, I'm already on my way." Doing his best to stay calm, he gripped the phone tighter and said what he could before she inevitably had to hang up. "Stay safe. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"...  _Hurry._ "

The line went dead.

_I'm coming for you, Lizzie._


	5. Practice

"...Like I said, I don't have much-"

"Grace? What's going on out there?" Billy's voice came through the walkie-talkie, though his words were broken by raspy coughs. "Why haven't the lights come back?"

"Because you killed my dog and you killed my friend Colin," Liz replied bluntly.

_No point in playing coy now._

To his credit, he barely hesitated. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be. We haven't killed you yet."

"And I haven't killed you yet. I know that man in my room is not your friend, just like there was no plane crash."

"Car accident, actually," he admitted, coughing again. "Trying to get out of this weather. Our trunk popped open. Damn cargo ran off into the woods."  _Another cough._ "We chased the son of a bitch for hours. I'm not leaving here without him."

_No, you're not leaving here at all - unless it's in a body bag._

"Why not just kill him? Why not kill me?"

"We needed you to keep him breathing. Boss wants him back alive so he can tell us what he told the Feds. Only then can he die. Slowly. That's my specialty."

_He just can't stop chewing ice, can he?_

The corners of Liz's lip began to quirk. "That's a nasty habit you've got there. I noticed."

"Enough. You're one woman in the middle of a storm against the four of us. It doesn't end well for you, Grace," he tried to sound threatening, but his constant coughing wasn't helping him.

"What's that, Billy? Billy, you okay? That's a stupid question." Her tone changed from falsely concerned to dark and sharp. "You're not okay because my name's not Grace. It's Elizabeth. You wanted to know about my past? I was an FBI agent."  _God, that seemed like a lifetime ago._ "A profiler. And I smelled you out the minute you walked in my door. That's why I froze broken glass into those ice cubes you love to chew." She didn't resist the urge to smirk, and allowed herself to sport a sinister smile as she heard him cough and hack. "So now every time you breathe, you're inhaling those little shards deeper into your throat and lungs."

He paused, his battle with his bleeding throat the only thing breaking the silence. "You're dead," he finally managed to grit out, nearly choking in the effort.

"No, Bill. For the first time, I'm feeling pretty alive." She wasn't lying. What did that say about her? "So, if you want to come for me, you better come ready for a fight, because you know what the four of you against me in the woods is gonna be?" She didn't bother waiting for a reply. She knew he wouldn't be able to offer one, anyway, what with his current condition. " _Practice._ " Tossing the walkie-talkie, she returned her attention to the phone she almost forgot she was holding. "Red, I have to go."

" _Elizabeth, I'm already on my way,_ " he assured her, his voice low and just the slightest bit frantic. " _Stay safe. I'll be there as soon as I can._ "

She believed him.

"... Hurry."

_Hurry, Red._

* * *

Glass filled ice cubes.

Drugged peanut butter.

Bear trap.

Turning the underground shed into an explosive fire pit.

Axe straight in the chest.

Yeah, Liz had to be creative - and so far, it worked.

_Three goons down, one to go._

_You better be ready for that fight, Billy._

* * *

**A/N: How are you guys liking the story? Comment your thoughts!**


	6. Out of Tricks

Red knew where Liz was, but she didn't know where he was.

That meant that, while she believed he would eventually get here, she didn't know when exactly that'd be - and if it'd be too late when he did. And so, unfortunately, she couldn't just hide and do nothing with the expectation that he would show up to save her. No, she had to do what she could - on her own - until he arrived. Kill or be killed, as they say. Plus, she had someone depending on her. And as a former FBI agent - not to mention, a human being with a conscience - she was morally obligated to help Mike. She couldn't just abandon the man - certainly not in his current state.

Which is why she has him strapped to a toboggan.

It wasn't easy dragging him around in the snow. He was almost literally dead weight. Her movements were considerably slowed down - which had been far from ideal when she had been forced to take down the goons - but, finally, she could rest for just a few short moments while she attempted to enact the next step in her survival plan.

"It's okay. We're gonna get you out of here. We're gonna get you some help," she assured Mike, though she wasn't sure if he could even register her words.

Now inside the Ranger Station, she used a flashlight to guide her way, and she began searching for the items she would need.  _Flares... Flare gun..._

_Bang._

"From one professional to another, you're pretty good. I told my guys tonight'd be easy. Hunker down, wait out the storm, lie to the lady."

_So, Billy finally decided to join the party._

"You can apologize to them soon," she said dryly.

"But you're all out of tricks now." She smirked when he went into another coughing fit. Backing away, she tossed and threw whatever objects were within her reach, not wanting to make it easy for him to get to her. "You're all out of traps."

"Am I?"

In a flash, she splashed him with enough kerosene to drench his face and clothes. Instantly, he screamed and groaned in pain, and knowing he wouldn't be distracted for long, she ran outside, hauling Mike behind her.

Then she tripped.

Hurriedly, she reached for her backpack. But before she could grab the item she needed, he was there. With a gun pointed at her.

"It's over. There's nowhere left to run," he said, panting slightly with pain and exertion.

Surprisingly, though, he didn't shoot her.

He knocked her out instead.


	7. Safe

They were back inside her cabin.

Liz had regained consciousness a few moments ago, groggily blinking through the fog and pain. And it had only taken a few moments for her to realize that she was tightly strapped to her kitchen chair, the zip-ties around her wrists and ankles digging into her skin.

"Good. You're awake."

Billy came to a stop a few feet in front of her, his arms crossed and his face thoughtful.

"Where's Mike?" she managed to croak.

"In your room. I told you I needed him alive - well, prefer it, anyway. By the looks of him now, I get the feeling I'm going to leave disappointed."

"So, why waste your time here? Why bother with all of this? You could have left after knocking me out."

He smirked. "I promised them I'd kill you. Slow."

Fear swelled within her at his words, but she made sure not to show it. "Well, then, get on with it," she said, her voice even.

"See? I knew we could get along."

* * *

She was in Alaska.

Red thanked God that he had already been up in the air, flying from British Columbia when she called. That shortened their flight considerably. However, they still hadn't landed, and with every minute - no, every  _second_ \- that ticked by, he grew more and more restless.

"How long?" he asked for the umpteenth time.

"We will hit the ground in less than twenty minutes," Dembe said, perfectly patient and understanding.

Red nodded jerkily, taking another gulp of scotch.

_Stay safe, Lizzie. Please, stay safe._

* * *

It hurt to breathe.

So far, Billy had broken three of Liz's ribs - one for each goon that she had... disposed of.

And now... Now he stood before her with a sizable knife in hand - one she would use to cut raw meat.

She didn't dare to so much as flinch, though.

_Don't show fear._

"What?" she said, a blank yet casual lilt to her voice. "Done already?"

He smirked. "Oh, we're just getting started."

* * *

Finally, they were on the road.

They certainly could have done without the layers of snow and ice, but at least their tires had already been chained. Plus, Dembe was driving, which meant Red had no doubt they would reach their destination in as little time as possible. It also helped that Elizabeth's cabin wasn't too far away from the private air-strip they had landed on. They were now about... fifteen minutes away, more or less.

Red prayed it would be less.

* * *

The pain was blinding.

Unsurprisingly, he had stabbed her.

Once in her right thigh.

Once in her gut.

"Don't worry, I haven't hit anything vital," he said, wiping the bloody knife on her cheek. "But you  _will_ bleed out if I don't put a bullet in your brain first. Either way," he shrugged, "I'll be here when you die."

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, it took everything in Liz to smile. Though, it turned out more like a grimace.

"So, you've got some spirit left in you," he said, grinning. "I like that. It makes me want to break you even more."

Just as he swung his arm back, fully prepared to stab her again, the front door broke down with a bang.

And Billy... Billy dropped to the ground.

Then it was a blur of noise and activity - neither of which she could make sense of.

Except one.

" _Lizzie._ "

The one sound she would never fail to recognize.

_Red._

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry for hurt Liz, but I also love hurt Liz (does that make me evil?)**

**FINALLY Red!**


	8. Not Today

"Lizzie."

Red didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to feel. There was just too much going on around him for him to be able to analyze what was going on  _inside_  him, too. He did recognize a few things amidst his inner turmoil, though: anger at the man who hurt Lizzie, relief at finding her alive, guilt for not being able to arrive sooner, grief for all that she was forced to endure, shock at seeing her in her current state...

_Speaking of..._

"She's going into shock," Red muttered, his voice rough and gritty and rumbling with his barely contained emotions. "Medic.  _Now_ ," he barked at no one in particular, every last one of his senses and every last ounce of his focus zeroed in on Liz.

Right on cue, Henry, a trusted surgeon on Red's team, crouched down beside her. He poked and prodded and flashed a light in her fluttering eyes, executing his actions in a swift and professional manner. "There's too much blood for me to confirm of any internal injuries right now, but you're right: she's going into shock. I need to get her stabilized and in an operating room ASAP. For now, the best we can do is apply pressure to her wounds," he explained, wrapping a thick, sturdy cloth tightly around her bleeding thigh, and pressing another into her gaping abdomen.

"Lizzie," Red brushed her damp hair away from her face, "I need you to keep your eyes open, Lizzie."

Surprisingly, she did just that - though, they were glassy and heavy-lidded. "Red." His name escaped her mouth in what can just barely pass as a whisper, but he heard it loud and clear. "Red, I'm-" She coughed, and blood began coating her lips, dribbling down her chin.

"Shh, don't try to talk. Just stay awake." He stayed close as his men slid her onto a stretcher and into the van that, on the outside, was just that - a regular van - but on the inside, was really a fully equipped ambulance. "Lizzie, I need you to stay awake."

"She's bleeding internally," Henry said, and Red found himself slightly resenting the man for stating the obvious. "How long until we arrive?" he asked the driver.

"Fifteen minutes," the driver stated. "Ten if we're lucky."

Henry shook his head. "I don't know if we'll make it in time."

"We have to make it," Red snapped, glaring at the doctor. " _She_ has to make it. Whatever it takes. Dying is not an option - not today. Not for her."

Meeting his heated gaze without so much as cowering, Henry took a few seconds to think to himself, then sighed. "She's not going to make it." Before Red could interrupt, he continued, "Not if we wait to get her in a room. I'll have to stitch her up here - stop the external bleeding, at least. I don't like it, but it's the only chance we've got."

Tightening his grip on Liz's hand, Red nodded grimly. "Do it."

"Red... I'm sorry..."

His eyes snapped back to Liz's barely open ones. Desperate to keep her conscious and distracted from Henry's expert ministrations - though, if he were being honest with himself, it was really him who needed the distraction - he brought her palm to his cheek and held it there as he spoke. "What for?"

"I... I couldn't keep my promise. I tried... I really did. I didn't go looking for trouble... but it found me." she was on the verge of blacking out, he could tell. "I c-couldn't keep my p-promise, Red... Can you f-forgive m-me?"

 _Forgive her?_ If anybody needed to apologize, it was him. If anybody needed forgiveness, it was him. And he would spend the rest of his days on his knees before her if that was what it took, if that was what she allowed him.

Pressing his lips firmly to her forehead, he stayed there for a few moments before gathering enough strength to look back into her fading eyes. "Yes."

He thought he lost her for good, once.

He almost lost her for real, too.

He wouldn't lose her again.


	9. You Have Me

_And I think it's gonna be a long long time_

_'Till touch down brings me round again to find_

_I'm not the man they think I am at home_

_Oh no no no I'm a rocket man..._

Liz could feel herself floating toward the surface of the abyss. It was dark and heavy, but strangely, she could hear music...  _Elton John_...? Closer and closer until, finally, she was able to force a twitch in her fingers. Her sight came next. It took a while, but eventually, the fluttering of her lashes provided the momentum needed to open her eyes.

The light was bright, but not blindingly so - it could even be considered dim, really. She just wasn't used to it yet, as it was still significantly brighter than the darkness she barely emerged from. Judging by the queen-sized bed and soft, rich blanket, plus the polished, wooden dresser off to the side, she didn't think she was in a hospital room. But she  _was_ hooked up to a heart-rate monitor, and an IV of clear fluids were attached to the vein in her arm.

And she wasn't alone, either.

Red was sitting in a chair just beside her bed, his eyes closed and his hands wrapped around her left palm and fingers - the hand that did not twitch during her journey to consciousness. He didn't seem to be sleeping, though...  _Resting?_ But he didn't look very relaxed or at rest. If anything, he looked tense. His shoulders were curved and his posture was stiff. The slight furrow of his brows was further evidence of her theory.

"Red."

She couldn't tell if the word made it past her lips, as her throat felt clogged and her tongue felt heavy. And she couldn't hear anything but the rhythmical tune of Rocket Man. Fortunately, though, it appeared Red did indeed hear her, because before she could question her voice further, his bowed head snapped up toward her.

"Lizzie." Swallowing a noticeable lump of emotion, he gently removed the earbuds before tightening his grip on her hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was stabbed in the gut." His heart dropped to his own gut until he noticed her weak smirk. "So, what's the damage?"

He didn't immediately reply. Instead, he took the time to study her face, her still hazy but clear blue eyes. It was as if he needed to convince himself that she was really alive. That she was okay. Another swallow before he said, "As you already know, you were stabbed in both your thigh and abdomen. Though you lost quite a lot of blood, the knife didn't hit any of your vital organs. However, your broken ribs managed to puncture your left lung... We had to stitch you up in the ambulance, stop the external bleeding. Then you were operated on in a nearby warehouse. We had you under an induced coma for a couple of days - which was only lifted after we brought you here. A few hours ago."

"Where's here?" She didn't feel the need to go into too much detail regarding her injuries. After all, they didn't matter. Red saved her. He was here with her now. She was going to be okay, and  _that's_ all that mattered.

"Montreal," he said, the corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. "We didn't want to risk putting you on too long a flight just yet."

"Montreal..."

She had been to Montreal just once in her life, when she and Ressler and other members of the task force had been sent to follow Red's lead about The Freelancer. When she had realized the true nature of Floriana Campo. When the first seed of doubt toward her husband had begun planting roots in her mind. When she had sat in a restaurant, at a small table just across from Red, so close that, had she wanted, she could've brushed the toe of her heels against his ankle, slid it up his calf... When they spoke in hushed tones beneath golden lighting, engaging in a battle of wit.

 _God,_ that seemed like a lifetime ago.

As if reading her thoughts, Red chuckled. "Yes, a place of fond memories."

This time, her smirk gained strength. "Aren't you presumptuous?"

Hearing his own words thrown back at him, his chuckle evolved into low laughter, and she could admit - to herself, at least - that she loved the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed or smiled in that fond way of his - the one that seemed to only be reserved for her. But it slowly faded as he sobered up, and the air grew a little heavy as he gazed into her eyes once more, sincerity etched across his features as he said, "I'm glad you're okay, Lizzie."

Her smirk softened into a genuine smile, and her eyes began to glaze with the beginnings of unshed tears. "I'm glad I didn't tell you to go."

_You don't believe Raymond Reddington could cease to exist in 60 seconds? I offer that particular package to clients._

_You're offering to walk away?_

_I'm not going to beg you to allow me the privilege of helping you. So, say the word, and I'm gone. Tell me to go, Lizzy... Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow._

Swiping his thumb across the scar on her wrist, he brushed his lips against the raised flesh, then again in the center of her palm, and finally over her knuckles. "You were right," he said quietly, his voice a mixture of rasp and gravel.

"About what?" Her words were equally as low, not wanting to disturb the bubble they were currently in, feeling the lines in the sand rearranging themselves until she and Red were on the same side.

"It was directed at you."

_Say what you will about Frederick, but someone who's willing to burn the world down to protect the one person they care about - that's a man I understand._

_Is that meant to be directed at me?_

_Aren't you presumptuous?_

The first tear fell and trailed down her pale cheek. "I was also wrong."

"About what?" he asked, brushing the tear away with his thumb and tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"I did need your protection," she admits, then pauses before continuing, "But I don't want our relationship to end at work. I do want you in my personal life."

"You already have me, Lizzie. You always have."

_You always will._

* * *

**A/N: THE END. This fic actually went longer than I intended, but I enjoyed it nonetheless - and I hope you guys did, too!**

**There are so many other episodes I want to rewrite (or just add in scenes like I mostly did here) but I don't know where to start! What fics would you guys like to read? Any particular episodes you wish were more Lizzington-centric? If so, tell me in the comments below!**


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